Things Hawkeye isn't terribly good at - 1
by herk227
Summary: After years and years as a loner Clint Barton isn't terribly good at letting others see when he's weak, even if they are just trying to help. It's a good thing that SHIELD has competent people working for them and it's even better that Phil Coulson has more patience for the quirks of the field agents he works with than most people would believe.


author's note: This takes place sometime during the phase of "The Three SHIELD-keteers" when Coulson and Barton slowly but surely grow closer. around the same time they switch to first name basis (It's obviously not really necessary to read that fic, but you should). Hawkeye already is a full agent, but Tasha hasn't joined them yet.

The nurse Arthur Williams is this universes' version of Rory Williams-Pond and strictly there because Arthur Darvill is adorkable as a nurse.

* * *

Hawkeye was good at many things, letting himself be treated when he was wounded wasn't among them.

Usually when he got injured on a mission he managed to keep it hidden, but unfortunately Coulson was far too observant as a handler for Clint to get away with his normal strategies. He didn't comment until they had finished debriefing – obviously judging that it couldn't be too serious as long as Clint was walking upright. But he did walk Barton over to the infirmary right afterwards.

That's when Coulson made one of his few and far between mistakes and just left Clint with the doctor. This only proved that nobody was perfect.

Agent Barton acted completely reasonable and the doc who didn't really know him had no reason to be extra vigilant. A few minutes later, after the doctor and the nurse had left him alone for just a moment, Clint had left the medical department and was hidden in one of his safe hideouts, that he had all over the base. He was just about to make himself as comfortable as possible, when Coulson called him over his radio.

"Agent Barton, I hope you are reading this. Please report to my office immediately."

The mission was over, they were officially debriefed and Clint was off the clock. It was pure luck, that he still had his radio online. Coulson's choice of words and his tone had been completely pleasant and perfectly polite. But Clint had worked with him often enough now to recognize the core of steel underneath. He considered not going anyway. Climbing out of his nest now and up again later would be quite painful. On the other hand he really didn't want to piss off the best handler he'd ever worked with and the closest thing he had to a friend inside SHIELD.

Hawkeye sighed and began his descent.

It took him almost twice the time it usually did to get to Phil's office and Coulson's "Come in," after his knock had a slightly impatient ring to it.

When he entered he saw himself confronted not only with Phil but also with the new male nurse he had ditched together with the doctor. Both watched him with crossed arms and the nurse had a bag with medical supplies next to him.

"Agent Barton, the last time I saw you, I left you at the infirmary to let your injuries be treated. Imagine my surprise when Nurse Williams came to my office a short while later to tell me you bailed. He told me – and rightly so – that I was your handler so I should handle this,"

Clint cringed slightly at the words. This was as close to a chew-out as he's ever gotten from Coulson. The senior agent was obviously annoyed, which was made even clearer by the fact that Williams was here to witness this conversation.

"Sir." He carefully avoided giving away anything in ways of infliction or facial expressions.

The older man's brow went up a notch, it was the only slightest change, but Clint knew the man well enough to read it as Agent Coulson's 'So this is how it's going to be?'-expression.

"Get out of your clothes Barton."

"Sir?" He was too shocked and too focused on not letting his pain show to make any wisecracks.

"You heard me Agent, strip down."

Clint's jaw set in stubborn defiance. He didn't say a word but it was clear that he didn't intend on doing as he was told.

Coulson held his eye. "Judging by the way you move, I'd say you have at least two bruised ribs, maybe cracked and you have strained the ligament in your right ankle. I'm no doctor but with my experience in the field and Nurse Williams help, I'm sure we can deal with that."

"Actually it's three ribs, Sir. And I'm fine."

"You strip down and let me be the judge of that – or if you prefer we can drag you across base to the med bay to let a doctor give you the once over."

The tension was almost palpable. Clint really didn't want this, but he also knew that Coulson had the better leverage. He might have tried to plead reason with his handler if it wasn't for the nurse. Barton would have rather gone through five medical exams before he showed weakness in front of anyone.

"Which is it Barton, me or med bay?"

Clint didn't look away, didn't show any signs of submission as he told him: "You, Sir."

Coulson actually took a step backwards, giving Barton room to breath. That was one of the things why he could actually work with the senior agent, the man knew when to back off.

The archer wasn't too keen on undressing, because moving was painful and because of the rest Coulson was about to see, but he also knew that dragging it out wouldn't help things in the long run, so he slowly but determinedly began to strip.

It was harder than expected and Coulson didn't make any moves to help him. Clint was actually taken by surprise when sure, professional fingers halted his arm at one point and began to help him peel his shirt away. Nurse Williams had almost escaped his mind before he very efficiently began to help Clint undress. The archer went tense at the first touch, but Williams went on as if nothing had happened. The man's touch was gentle and his whole behavior so unassuming that Clint had a hard time not giving in. He wasn't happy about it, but he needed another person's hand and he guessed he could have done worse than a nurse who actually knew what he was doing.

When his chest and upper body were naked, Clint rose his eyes to meet Coulson's.

The gash on his left side had been hidden until now and handler and nurse eyed it critically.

"That needs stitches." Coulson decided.

"I'm a nurse," Williams stated, "I'm not qualified to do suturations."

"Noted. Do you have the required equipment in that bag of yours?" Coulson was a stickler for protocol if the circumstances allowed it, what most people didn't know though was that he was more than ready to throw it out of the window if he thought it necessary. And with Barton he had found it necessary more and more often.

The nurse nodded. "Are you going to do it?" The implication that he could do it if needed stood in the room.

Coulson put his hand out for the needle. "I stitched up quite a few people in the field, it won't be pretty, but it'll do."

Barton bit his teeth together at the sting of the disinfectant and then at the prodding and pulling of the needle. There was no way for them to anesthetize without going to the infirmary and Clint thought the pain to be the lesser evil.

Coulson was unusually talkative, speaking to Clint throughout the whole process. Although it was mostly a lecture about the necessity to talk about his injuries and the stupidity of trying to hide them, the archer listened intently, less focused on the words but on the voice talking to him.

"You know, sir, you wouldn't make a bad nurse yourself." Judging by William's face, the man agreed with Clint.

"I've got field medic training and lots of practical experience. But I was told on several occasions that my bedside manners leave a lot to be desired. Obviously scaring patients into getting better fast isn't an accepted medical procedure. Now let me look at those ribs."

Barton couldn't completely hold the sharp intake of breath back as Coulson touched his ribs, carefully testing for the extend of the injury.

"As you said three ribs, two of them cracked but luckily enough none outright broken."

Without being asked for it Williams had bandages and tape ready and the two began to bandage Clint.

"How did you know, what to bring?" Clint tried to at least make some kind of conversation with the man helping to get him back into working order.

"I might be relatively new to SHIELD, Agent Barton, but I have enough experience to know what to expect most likely. Although I normally don't have to run after patients."

There was a quiet humor to Williams' words and Clint was glad that he hadn't succeeded in pissing off yet another member of SHIELD. With his chest properly supported and the gash stitched up he immediately began to feel better.

"Pants," Coulson commanded.

"Really, Sir? I did hope for a bit more romance on our first time." Clint knew that something like this couldn't faze his handler, but Williams's face was quite the sight. He looked a slightly goofy to begin with, but the way he tried to hide his blush was priceless.

"You're not walking out of here before I checked the rest of you for injuries and had a look at your ankle, so stop making the nurse uncomfortable and strip."

Hiding behind his professionalism Williams asked "If you need any help..."

Begrudgingly Barton let himself be helped out of his pants. It was a good thing that Coulson's office was relatively warm, since he now was wearing nothing more than his briefs and the bandage around his chest. The moment he was out of his boots his ankle began to swell.

Since he couldn't find anything more serious than just a few bruises and scrapes, Coulson was almost satisfied. He took a salve from Williams. "Are you sure, the ligament isn't torn?"

Clint actually smirked "I'm an archer – believe I would have noticed the sound of any kind of string snapping. It's just strained."

Coulson nodded and began applying the cooling salve. Without looking up he asked Williams: "You probably don't have a splint with you?"

"I'm going to get you one from the infirmary. And an ice pack."

The moment the nurse had left Phil took a step back from Barton and looked at him with a sigh.

"So you obviously don't like hospitals and doctors – I figured as much. But would you please explain to me what this is about? This is a bit extreme for a simple dislike."

Coulson actually looked as if he was willing to pinch the bridge of his nose any moment. They both had had a long couple of days and although Clint was the one injured he knew well enough that this operation had taken its toll on the handler, too. As long as the nurse had been there he had acted as if this couldn't faze him, he had a reputation to keep up after all but now he let Barton see behind the mask.

Every part of Barton wanted to tell him to 'fuck off and mind his own business', but considering what Coulson had just done and obviously was willing to keep to himself it wouldn't be exactly fair. Besides his handler had proven that he trusted Clint and his judgment over and over again and maybe he needed to get over himself and return some of that trust.

"I've had worse and took care of it myself," he began. Coulson's face hardened at his words and he quickly continued. "It's just that doctors tend to get all worked up over nothing and they probably would have sent me to the bench over this."

He didn't know if it was his voice or something in his face, but somehow Coulson seemed to be able to figure out the problem.

"Barton – would you qualify me as soft?"

This took Clint by surprise. "You? You're one of the toughest bad-ass-motherfuckers I've ever met – Sir."

"You think anyone on this base or in SHIELD in general thinks me weak?"

"Not if they have two brain cells to rub together."

"Do you know what I do if I get injured, Barton? I go to the medical department and let the doctors check me out. I might not always do as they say, when it comes to recuperation time and sick leave, but I do let them look me over."

"It's different for you."

Coulson wasn't impressed with his statement. "How?"

"You're not a field agent, most injuries won't stop you from doing your job. And you're pretty much irreplaceable around here anyway."

And for a moment Phil Coulson was at a loss for words. It was true that he was a valued senior member of SHIELD with good relations to the director but the implication that Barton saw himself as expendable was distressing. It wasn't completely unwarranted in their line of work but from that point of view Phil just was another piece on the board, too. This said more about the archer's self-image than any of his psychological files. And from his work with the man so far Phil was pretty sure that coddling wouldn't help.

"You're an idiot, Barton."

"Sir?"

"Everyone is replaceable. But we're agents of SHIELD, we wouldn't be working here, if we weren't the very best at what we do. In other words we might be replaceable, but certainly not easily. And in the long run your strategy is idiotic. It's far easier to deal with a couple of days sick leave and have you back at your full potential than to have you officially available but not up to your game and ruining your health trying to cover it up."

For some reason Coulson's little rant made Clint smile. "So I'm a valuable asset _and_ idiotic."

"If someone can manage that, it's you Barton. Now for future references, if you get as much as a scratch, you will let me, Nurse Williams or a SHIELD certified doctor check you over. If I ever find out, you didn't do that although you were hurt, I'm going to put a permanent order in your file to give you a complete medical exam after _every_ mission, understood?"

Clint wasn't happy but knew there was no way out of this. At least he still had the option to search out someone instead of going to the infirmary. "Yes, Sir."

When Williams returned they put on the splint on Barton's ankle.

Coulson ordered the nurse to keep this out of the files and Barton to take at least one week off, before throwing them both out.


End file.
